A Different Look At His Drinking
by NyghtStryker
Summary: What if Sheriff Stilinski was an abusive drunk? And what if no one but Stiles knew about it? Rated M for language


It was another night, another night where I sat in the corner and cried while my dad threw empty beer bottles at me. I shook and yelled for him to stop but he would just throw them harder. A piece of glass was in my cheek and another, slightly larger one, in my thigh. He had already thrown me around like a ragdoll so blood was gushing from my temple and chest from where my head collided with the table and where my ribs stabbed through my skin. My body was numb and I was scared. So scared. So scared. Why couldn't he see he was hurting his son? Maybe he didn't care. I looked too much like her, he kept telling me, he kept telling me. I died my hair, cut it, starved myself so I'd be too skinny. But no matter what I did all he saw was her. No one knew that I was scared. No one would know if I died in this corner, my dad was the sheriff; he could hide my dead body and just say I went missing. Would anyone care? Would anyone look for me? If I gave up right now, would I go to heaven or hell? Would my mom be there to greet me in either? I fell another piece of glass stab me, but this time, it went to my heart.

My body froze as I looked at the glass. It was almost half the bottle, the other side was shattered on the floor. This piece was the size of my hand, and was slipping closer and closer to my heart.

I felt my breathing become labored, oh god no. Not a panic attack. Not now. I heard more glass break and I started rambling under my breath the first thing that came to mind.

"Please save me. Help me. Save me. Find me. Help me. Save me. Derek."

The name brought hope into my rapidly beating heart. Derek. Could he hear me from his loft? If I screamed loud enough, would he hear me? If I screamed though, my dad would most likely kill me. But it was a chance to be saved. Risk for reward. I have to take a risk in order to be given my freedom. Dad stumbled and fell again, too shitfaced to know his left foot from his right. This was my chance. I breathed in as much as I could, ignoring the pain, and screamed, "DEREK!"

There was silence, and I looked of at my dad, fresh tears spilled over my eyes. Dad was staring at me like an evil demon that was now pissed to hell and back. My hands shook more than ever as his nostrils flared and he stood up clumsily, an extremely large piece of broken glass in his right hand. He looked like a crazed murderer, "Why the fuck did you do that?"

I whimpered and whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please don't hurt me, I'm sorry."

His face darkened a shade of red in anger, "Not good enough."

Then he came at me. I crawled away; around the couch, under the table. I crawled and a trail of blood was left behind me. I tried to crawl towards the front door when he stepped on my ankle, snapping the bone in two. The crack echoed before I screamed. I couldn't help but think of Lydia when I did that. That was when I thought of the pack….. my family. I was never going to see them again. I was going to die before Derek's birthday, the first one the pack would celebrate together. Derek would never get the painting I did that was currently sitting in the back of my closet. It was of the pack as wolves, they stood as a group with the humans in the middle and Derek up front as their alpha. It was on a generic grey/navy blue background but had white dots, like stars. He was never going to get it.

I turned onto my back and saw my dad with the glass in his left hand now, and his gun in his right, "Which one would you like? I'll let you pick."

My chin trembled as I tried to keep the sobs from escaping, but I had to choose or he would choose something ten times worse than that. My lips shook along with my voice as I answered, "G-gun."

At least it'll be quick.

That was when the door busted down, a black figure in the doorway with the moon behind their face. My eyes couldn't focus on them but I whispered anyway, "You found me."

The person attacked my dad as he shot the gun, hitting my shoulder instead of my head. I still screamed though, and laid on my side as my lung was punctured and blood started to fill my lungs. I couldn't breathe. It was useless. Even when someone saved me I will still die. I wanted to see everyone, and Derek. I wanted to tell him that I had been having strange feelings toward him and I didn't know what they were. I wanted to sing him happy birthday and watch him blow out the candles on his dog cake the pack got as a joke. But now, as my the glass entered my chest cavity, inching towards my heart, I knew I would never see any of that. Ever when the strange person pulled me into their arms and carried me out of that damn house, it was no use. They put me in the seat of their car and I just placed my hand on theirs, "It's okay, it's useless now. I'm dying."

That was when I felt lips on my forehead and breath on my cheeks, I heard a choked voice say, "I won't lose you. I can't."

I smiled weakly and relaxed. I was finally away from him, but I didn't have the strength anymore. Derek will have to celebrate without me or my painting. Then I slipped into darkness. I stayed there.

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** If everyone likes it I'll make a sequel :) with a twist maybe.**


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